


Turning Point

by blackgirlcouchstories



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Westworld Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgirlcouchstories/pseuds/blackgirlcouchstories
Summary: Maeve is stuck in the park with Lee as it's Head having survived his wounds. The former narrator and the saucy madam are i new territory, what does that mean for them?
Relationships: Maeve Millay/Lee Sizemore
Kudos: 24





	Turning Point

Maeve reveled in the kiss; the soft stubble of Hector’s beard tickled her cheek as memories of a sweeter moment atop of rooftop overseeing their home turning the physical contact nostalgic. Hector’s responded with passion but there was a coldness that washed over her like freezing rain. He pulled back and smiled though his eyes held very little emotion. Words were said, as the helicopter whirled the air around them, but she was mournful. He grabbed her hand and she went; mechanical motions to conclude the newest storyline in park’s grand opening. As the curtain closed narratively, the heroine making her escape with her hero; she sought Hector’s hand. He didn’t notice; the benign look of the strong champion plastered on his face was tragic.  
She snatched her hand away; inwardly shaking her head. She was alone in a world of ghosts. Unexpectedly, she smirked.  
At least she bloody got to kill Nazis

Lee hurried down the corridors, ignoring the feeling he often did of eyes prying from the glass windows where hosts were being re-trained and calibrated to play out the many storylines that were still in place.  
He’d made a few more additions, naturally, being the new Ford in charge and he couldn’t entirely hide the pride his new role served him. Absently, he rubbed the deep wound on his left shoulder that still occasionally twitched.  
One year. That was all it took to place the train back on its tracks. Delos had sent in mercenary teams to clear the massacre. The board had covered it up. All offshore employees were brought in to fix the broken toys and he; being pulled from the dirt full of holes just like the hosts repaired and put back to work.  
As of two weeks ago, business was as usual and according to the reports he only ever glanced at, it was bloody fucking fantastic!  
As Charlotte Hale had promised and apparently already proposed and been accepted. He had full control of the park. Per agreement, he’d simplified the experience. Increased the violence, the stakes; the primordial relentless fucking experience.  
Everyone was content. A revolution had been reduced to an event; an error in programming and a dead man’s mad attempt at immortality or was it to play God? He couldn’t exactly remember what tale they sold Ford’s death. The blurb was miniscule. He’d been erased from his own legacy much like Arnold had been.  
The noise got quieter as he entered the senior staff living quarters. He paused in front of his door, surprisingly conscious of his own physical appearance which was bloody ridiculous. Still, he found himself making sure his shirt was tucked in and blew into his palm to check for bad breath before typing in his code and entering.  
He smelled her first; she always had a way of filling a room with lavender and rain and a tinge of something only native to her.  
“Whatever could you have been thinking when you decided killing Nazi’s would be the best use of my time?” she asked slightly acidly.  
Her back was too him, so he took the moment to admire it. She was in black dress again hugged to perfection around every curve of her body and his mouth watered a bit before he realized he was becoming visibly aroused.  
As if sensing it, she turned around with a knowing look that infuriated him as much as it endeared. “Coming from the madame whose sole purpose was the procuring and performing of sex,” re replied, removing his dark blue suit jacket and tossing it on the sofa. The room was darkly lit except for a few low lamps. He walked toward to small bar and immediately sloshed brandy into his decanter. Being in charge came with a few additional perks.  
Maeve made moue and strolled over, sensuality in each of her graceful movements. She too held a glass of liquor and with a sigh sat down on the bed.  
The overly large, oak four post King bed with curtains that would allow the recipient to disappear into their own pleasure palace if they were inclined and reluctantly, again, Lee found himself distracted by the idea of it.  
He took another gulp.  
She signed. “Maddening, you make a point. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”  
He let the silence settle; fidgeting with his thoughts and sat down on the sofa opposite the bed. She’d kept the balcony door opens to let in a light breeze. Dusk was turning to night. “Hector hasn’t re-awoken I take it?”  
Whatever tone he’d used, it had a reaction he couldn’t quite read and that made his thoughts and hands fidget more as he finished his drink and sought another. He didn’t need to face her to know she rolled her eyes at the action and he pretended not to care.  
“I…I don’t think he’ll ever come back.”  
That…was new.  
When Felix and Sylvester had pried him from his emotional pity party that long time ago and explained Maeve was not only alive but awake something had moved through him. Something akin to purpose or meaning. The need to protect her was so ingrained he could no longer separate it from his own need to save his ass. Seeing her now, defeated, regurgitated the emotion. And so, he sat next to her, expressing an empathy he resented.  
“Felix said it could take time….”  
“It’s been over a year, darling. No matter what I say, how I implore him, he’s just not…there,” angry, she jumped up and tossed the glass across the room.  
Feeling languid and intoxicated, he murmured, “it’s a good thing I don’t actually clean these rooms cuz-“  
She swung around, an unholy light in her eyes. “Everything I’ve done was for my daughter, to reunite with her and keep her safe… but now?” She tossed up her hands. “I spend my days escaping bigots and my evenings getting absurdly drunk with my jailor.”  
Drunkenly affronted, Lee rose, and promptly plopped back down. “Well, just you hang on a min…minu…minuit; I am hardly a jailor! Would a jailor let pick out of their outfits in the morning as if he hadn’t dressed himself for years? Would a jailor search for her missing robot friends for most the year? Would…would a jailor let you sleep in their bed while he must sleep on the much smaller and really fucking uncomfortable sofa,” he trailed off as her ire melted into fond amusement.  
She folded her arms. “Your bed is rather cozy.”  
And just like that he was reluctant pudding in her hands and in a physically stagnant state of sexual suppression.  
“You’ve been a good…friend.”  
“I should bloody say so,” in a weak attempt to assert any willpower in their relationship. Surprising, she sat next to him. Her warmth beckoned, and her scent surrounded him, and he wondered for the thousandth time since his own cannibal had tried to eat him if he were cursed.  
“All the time I was trying to protect my daughter, I never considered how it’d end. I thought if I could bring him back we could escape this place. I had hope we’d could still build the life we’d dreamed. But I now know it was always that, wasn’t it? And now he’s gone, like Armistice, Hanayro, Clem….all the facets of my previous life washed away like sand in my hands.”  
Gently, he brushed his skin against her to comfort. “I won’t pretend to understand whatever the hell goes on in that head of yours, but I do know this,” He looked at her. “You’re an amazing woman; strong, and that includes my ninth-grade headmistress whom I’d mistaken for a man on more than one occasion the way she wielded that stick as if it were the right hand of God itself….” His voice trailed off and his face scrunched in remembered recoil. “Fucking bitch was what she was”  
The bark of laugher surprised him. His stomach did a somersault that encouraged him. “She was one of those hags that had three moles on her face and constantly smelled like cabbage. And to our young horror a dildo the size of the Washington monument.”  
Another round of mirth followed as Lee shook himself in mock repulsion.  
He enjoyed sharing his childhood miseries with her; they always seem to make her smile or cause her to tease him unmercifully. He didn’t mind. She was still in a cage and he was the proverbial jailer she proclaimed. She deserved so much more from this life. And he couldn’t do a damn thing to give it to her.  
It depressed him, made him melancholy and frustratedly he began to fumble with his clothes for the black bliss that would help him at least escape his reality.  
His hands were clumsy as he heard the rustle of clothes as she rose; she knew well enough dressing down to his knick knacks was a clear sign of his inevitable descent into a dreamless slumber.  
Maeve found herself reluctant to end the peace acquired just minutes ago and an unfamiliar feeling itched her palms. She hadn’t noticed herself watching Lee’s bowed head as he failed repeatedly to separate button from loop.  
She cocked her head studying him and a wistful breath escaped from her lips. Before she knew it, she was brushing his hands aside and taking over the task herself. He inhaled at the contact, but she pretended not to notice. It was a quick work, but she took her time; the tension in the room suddenly thick and consuming. When it came to the bottom few she knelt, keenly aware she was traveling a road that was as foreign as it was exhilarating.  
As the fast button became unfastened, Lee seemed about to stand but she was fascinated.  
His chest was rather ordinary, smooth with only the smallest whisper of dark hair from his naval trailing into parts her own found themselves hungry for.  
But he wasn’t Hector.  
Hector doesn’t exist  
She’d loved him.  
You loved the idea of him.  
The truth of that was crushing but with it came a freedom she hadn’t even known she was seeking. As she glanced into Sizemore’s eyes, imploring, he started then with a low growl and a “bloody hell” he hauled her against him and ravaged her mouth with an urgency she matched.  
His hands were peeling back the infuriating contraption keeping his skin from hers and she felt a giddy chortle in her throat as another oath made the fabric rip. His lips were on her neck now, trailing ever downward and she slid his shirt full off to lean into his warmth.  
The contact was searing and collectively they groaned s his mouth hers again, this time savoring as if she were the most delicious treat and then urge to smile could not be contained. She forgot everything but the scent of sandalwood of his flesh moving against hers as finally she slid from her clothes and pushed him back into the bed, her pelvis thrusting against his in rapid anticipation.  
“You’re going to kill me,” he mumbled as she slid her tongue around the shell of ear. She fumbled with the zipper of his pants as his hands tentatively touched her breasts, becoming more insistent when she moaned encouragingly. When he pulled her nipple into his mouth and bit before sucking her mind went blank.  
She was no stranger to sex. She’d had plenty of it playing the madam of a brothel. This didn’t feel like sex though the act was the same. Her analytical brain somewhere outside her emotions understood that no one had ever touched her like this. Kissed her like this. It wasn’t sex  
It was akin to worship.  
And she fell into like a drowning man of thirst. Without warning, he flipped her onto her back and continued his exploration of each part of her skin it felt. She couldn’t hear the sounds she made but Lee did.  
It drove him mad. Somewhere in the back of his head he wondered if his prick would even survive the foreplay. She tastes so damn good.  
He’d once thought she wasn’t real; bloody fool. She felt like the only real thing he’d ever known.  
He wanted to be inside her. Needed it. His cock strained for satisfaction, but he didn’t want to because then it’d end. She’d realize he wasn’t him and jealously reared like an angry bull and possessiveness gripped him as he found the apex of femininity and buried his face there.  
Maeve bucked, shock making her go still until the sensations attacked and her entire body melted. “Lee….” She breathed then shouted as she saw bright dazzling colors explode behind her closed eyes.  
But he wasn’t done.  
Two fingers slide inside of her heat as he found her jewel and licked once, twice, again, faster and faster until tears pooled at the edges of her eyes and she was floating in paradise.  
The absolute male pride Sizemore felt was predatory as he replaced his fingers with himself and she welcomed him zealously, her mouth hungry for his and he obliged.  
Please God, Thor, Buddha, Winston Churchill don’t let him cum.  
She bit him. He grew harder inside her as she grew wetter  
She matched his thrusts beat for beat  
Oh, for fucks sake!  
“Yes, yes, yes….” She cried  
No. No. No.  
And then she came. He knew the tale tell signs now, her eyes rolled back, her feet curled, and her entire lavender scented frame hummed, and he could hold on no more except he hadn’t had he? He’d only been holding back as he forgot everything but imprinting himself onto her body and when he came she did too. His head fell into the crook of her neck and he went lax.  
The silence should have been awkward, but it was full of wonder and something infinitely sweet that compelled Maeve’s wandering hands that were stroking his back to caress his head. His breathing slowed and deepened.  
She’d join him soon but not yet. She wanted to savor this, whatever this was. He probably had the words for it, grand storyteller he was she though sarcastically but smiled in fondness. She was entirely too smart not to know that as a man he’d fuss about her going back into the park. She had to, but he wouldn’t like it. He may even take measures to prevent it from happening. But that’d catch the attention of the board which may then catch the attention of her.  
Her eyes narrowed; fear and protectiveness warring as she realized for the first time since her daughter left she had something to care about, someone to care about even….  
She hugged him tight.  
“No, Mrs. Manning, I didn’t steal a scone I swear……soggy bishhh.” he mumbled groggily in his sleep and she kissed his brow.  
Don’t worry, darling. It’s time we write our own fucking story.


End file.
